Little Lights
by MissJanuary
Summary: Behind a bold red door and decades past, a terrible secret lays in wait.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: We all know these characters were borrowed from SM's Twilight. No infringement intended. **

**Halloween is hands down my favourite time of year and for years I've been trying to write something in the horror genre, but nothing ever panned out...until now. **

**This was supposed to be an entry for the Halloween Countdown this year, however life stepped in and made it impossible to finish it before the deadline, so I figured I'd offer it up as a treat. The chapters will be fairly short and I'm hoping to post the last on Halloween night. Happy reading and I'll see ya at the bottom. **

**Spooky love to my beta team this time around: Pre-reader wonder woman Lynzylee and beta ****i2want2knowu. I'll own up to any mistakes made. **

(Little Lights)

***The Move~***

1392 Westminster sat at the end of the boulevard. Its recent paint job did nothing to hide its years. You could see it in the bold shape, hear it in the creak of the front steps, and smell it in the musty, dank basement. The wooden siding was a deep, stormy grey; the shutters a butter-creamy yellow, and because Renee's wish was Charlie's every desire the front door was Coke-a-Cola red. The massive wrap-around porch was outlined by wild flowers, bright pops of pink, yellow, orange and purple. Cracked, moss stained stepping stones made up the front path. It had a charming, over-grown cottage like quality to it that I actually kind of liked.

The backyard was home to an impressive array of rose bushes and a gazebo that, once upon a time, was the highlight of the yard. It now looked to be in its final stretch of life, aching to be revived and desperate to be the focus once again.

The thing that put the SOLD sign on the lawn, though ? The porch swing. Iced-tea-on-a-hot-day type swing. That was it. Mom saw that and the next day they were signing papers.

Moving sucked balls—at least that was my opinion. It was a tedious, time sucking event that left you sore as hell and—at least in my case—bruised to shit.

Being about twenty months pregnant, Renee, my mother, snagged herself a cushy spot on the recliner "supervising". The only finger she was lifting was to her mouth. Chowing down powdered donuts was tough work. So was growing a human, I hear. Baby Riley would be (surprise) sibling number two for me. My little sister, Bree, was fifteen, and not nearly as annoying as one would expect a Pop-tart her age to be. She was actually pretty cool beans, a little nerdy, but with an environmentalist lawyer for a father and a pathologist for a mother, that was a hard bullet to dodge.

With the last box emptied; my clothes were all tucked neatly away in the dressers, and my collection of horror movie posters were artfully hung. Half exhausted I lay there on my newly made bed, hands behind my head, and stared up at a ceiling I'd never seen before in a room that was nearly twice the size of my old one. No complaints there. _Thirty Seconds to Mars _kicked out electric claps of sound that bounced off the freshly painted orange walls.

I didn't understand why they'd bother with the paint since college was only a year away, but Mom had insisted, and I wasn't game for arguing with a hormonal pregnant woman.

A smile stretched across my lips when I heard Dad shout, "First door on the right, Edward. Follow that fucking God awful music." Charlie, aka papa bear, would never admit it, death bed be damned, but I'd caught him singing along to Kings and Queens once.

The bedroom door opened slowly, and six feet and one inches of boy leaned against the frame with a cocky grin that never failed to short circuit my frigging neural network. And he knew it. And I hated him for it … kind of. "Room looks good, Bells."

"No thanks to you. Perfect timing as always, Cullen." Winking, I sat up.

Edward stepped across the threshold, carefully and quietly shutting the door behind him. A sneaky grin was pulling at the corners of his mouth. I was thoroughly aquatinted with that look. "These hands weren't made for hard labour, Tadpole." He glanced around the room again and made his way over to me, creeping like a ninja. He was ridiculous.

Edward Cullen and I met in freshmen year. Skinny, short, and unfortunately uncoordinated, I ran into a tall gangly boy in gym glass…literally. He'd snapped at me, told me to watch were I was going, all hot-headed and arrogant. Uselessly, I tried to explain that my feet and my brain weren't often on the same page. He'd rolled his eyes and walked away, mumbling some shit about short people being a nuance to society. It was _not_ love at first sight.

Late in the second semester of that same year, we'd been paired together to complete a sociology project. Surely Mr. Banner had _no idea_ of the violence that would ensue. Insults flew, threats made, a text book chucked, and if memory served me correctly, a pencil or two died a horrible death. Long story short, the night ended in a hot make out session that blew my mind and changed everything.

"How was practice?" I asked as he pulled a white washed chair away from the desk.

Edward was in a band. Broody, cocky boy in a high school rock band… cliché, yes, but _hot_, so I kept my teasing on the light side. He played bass, and watching his fingers work those strings was like foreplay. The plucking and strumming of an inanimate object shouldn't be so damned tantalizing.

Straddling the chair, he folded his arms over the back of it and lowered himself. "Not bad. Jazz still sounds a little rough," he commented. "That cold kicked his southern ass, man." Jasper's voice sounded like whiskey and tall grass. He was good. But Edward was better. Edward's voice rolled like thunder and stuck to you like sweat on a hot stormy day.

He sung backup on the odd song, preferring to be just outside the spotlight. Sound engineering and music production was where he was headed, not centre stage.

Alice Brandon, one of the trashiest, yet loveliest people I've ever met was the current lady-friend of the aforesaid lead singer of the moody-boys band. Two weeks ago she came to school with a gross cold that she happily spread like butter on warm bread, sharing it with a huge portion of the senior class. Great way to start a new school year. Thank you, Alice.

"Oh, almost forgot. Housewarming gift." He stood and pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket. Handing it to me, my bronze-haired bassist plopped down beside me on the bed.

I quirked an eyebrow and offered him a curious look. Unfolding the paper, I looked down. It was the winning bid on a poster. "Evil Dead 2. Nice," I said.

"Should be delivered this week."

Eleven full sized posters, three UK minis, and two autographed photos currently decorated my walls. It was safe to say, I harboured a healthy obsession.

"Perfect. I love it." I turned my face to his and he was right there. His nose brushed mine, and I watched his eyes dip to my lips, tracking the sweep of my tongue across them.

All breath and whisper, he leaned in a little more and said, "Thought you might." His meadow-green eyes were still locked on my mouth.

Heat started a slow walk up my spine, and I felt my face light up.

"You're all pink," Edward helpfully pointed out. His voice was pitched low, but I could hear the amusement in it.

"You're breathing on me." I tried for a bark, but it came out a whine.

He bent forward and kissed the corner of my mouth. My body tipped back without my say so, and suddenly Edward was hovering over me. Warmth spread over me, and I closed my eyes as his lips brushed across my throat. My hands roamed his chest, his shoulders, and his waist. No matter where they began, they always seemed to find their way into his hair. I liked the feel of his silky strands slipping between my fingers. I liked it even more when my tugging earned a groan.

His jean clad leg pushed between mine, and thank you Edward, don't mind if I do. One hand buried itself in his hair, the other was at his waist, gripping. I raised my hips and unabashedly rubbed myself along his thigh. In response, he pushed his knee up just a little higher. And _hell yes!_

A long hum rumbled through my chest when his hands tickled my sides and pushed up under my threadbare shirt. When a hand glided down between us and stealthy slipped under the waist band of my jogging pants, I let loose an embarrassing sound.

"Shit," I said, slapping a hand to my mouth. As cool as my father was, he'd kill Edward and have him buried in some backwoods trailer park if he knew where his hand was right now.

He snickered and pushed his thumb against me, and my back lifted off the mattress. "Tadpole?"

I opened my eyes at looked up.

"You're squirming." Those beautiful, and sometimes completely infuriating, green eyes of his twinkled with a smug amusement that I kinda wanted to smack off his face. The squirming thing—yeah, all his fault. I'd never been one to fidget … until Edward. The way he looked at me, the wicked grins, the teasing whispers, and _God_ his touch unsettled me in the best damn way. It was like my skin hummed and the energy was too much. Squirming ensued. He said I looked like a little tadpole wriggling around.

"Then _get to it_," I demanded, grabbing his wrist and pushing up. I rolled my hips and he chuckled.

I sat up and tugged my shirt over my head. Edward didn't miss a beat, pulling the stretchy cups of my sports bra down to expose my less-than-ample boobs. He loved them, I thought they needed work.

"I hate this bra," he mumbled against my skin "…squishes your tits."

I was about to make some snarky remark about my itty bitties, but the words dropped away and my mouth snapped shut when he started sucking. I'd have marks for sure, and I was so very much okay with that.

I bucked and moaned and grinded against his hand, my control slowly walking away from me. My eyes drifted to the door, praying no one came in. The mortification would surely kill me. "Please," I begged. This over the panties shit wasn't working. I needed contact. What I wanted was him naked under me, but this bed was squeaky and well, I was loud. I made no apologies for that.

"Pick a number," he whispered in my ear.

"Two," I said through parted lips.

Two long fingers slipped inside me, and I mumbled something completely incoherent. I started to grab at the bed sheets and he knew I was close. His tongue danced in my mouth and he laid his palm flat against me. I loved the wet slide and the warm, rough patches on his hands from picking away at his bass for hours.

"Three." I panted, watching his face. "Three," I repeated and I felt his hand shift, and I stretched just a little more. There was a little sting and it was more bliss than pain. I fought to keep my legs from clamping shut and another smug-ass grin appeared on his face.

I came in a slow rush of warmth that twisted my stomach into knots.

"I might have enjoyed that just as much as you did." Edward went to the small en suite and washed his hands.

I found my T-shirt and pulled it back over my head. "Don't doubt it." I shook my head. "That's weird," I said, standing and walking to my closet.

"Huh?"

"The closet door … it was closed."

Edward shrugged. "Old house."

**End Notes: So ya with me so far? **


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: The plot bunny that bit me in the ass, all mine. The rest is SM's. **

**Look at that you're back for more. Awesome. **

**Once again a big thanks to my beta team: I2want2knowu and Lynz. **

Chapter 2

**~*Crackle~***

"Mrs. Bellhouse needs to get laid." Alice's high voice rang across my yard and carried up the stairs.

"Or take up day drinking. Either way, she's way too uptight," Kate declared, giggling.

I pulled my keys from my backpack and twirled them on my finger as I jogged up the front porch. The key slid home with a rusty click.

"Speaking of getting laid …"Kate said. Tact was never her thing. "Christen the house yet?" Her pointy fingernail poked me in the back.

I opened the door, turned on my heel, rounding on them and offered a saucy glare. "Wouldn't you like to know?"I pushed the door open with my butt and backed into the house, the pretty red door creaked.

We filed in and kicked off our shoes, leaving them in a messy heap by the door. "Is Natasha coming over after practice?" I asked, leading the girls to the kitchen.

Kate and Tasha had been going hot and heavy for nearly a year now, and I liked her, she was cool beans and an insane violinist; but did I think she was my BFFs ever after? Nope. The pieces _seemed_ to fit, but there was an intensity in Kate that seemed to die out when Natasha was around.

"Yeah, around four," she murmured, no doubt texting away.

I nodded. "Large pizza it is then." Mom was elbow deep in some dead body at the hospital and dad was working on a case out of town. The trial was due to begin tomorrow morning, so it was a fend-for-yourself kind of night. We reached the kitchen, tucked in the far corner of the house, and stopped dead. It might have been comical if I wasn't so freaked out. "What the …"

Every drawer and cupboard was wide open. My eyes flew around the room and I called out, "Mom? Bree?" No one answered.

"Well that's fucked up," Alice said, sauntering past me in cut offs and black fish nets I'd never have the balls to wear. She began closing the cupboards.

"What's fucked up is that ISU in AP English. Bellhouse is hell bent on killing our social lives," Kate complained scoping the note and money Mom had left. "Vegetarian for Bree." She waved the note in the air and opened her phone dialling the only edible pizza joint in the town, Denato's.

We ate, listened to music, and Bree rattled on about some snobby chick in her class and her new found hatred for pudding thanks to a lunchtime incident.

Alice, Tasha, and Kate left just after seven and Bree headed to her room to do her homework while I started in on the dishes. The music playing in the living room sucked away the empty feeling the house took on, and I hummed along happy to be doing anything other than biology at the moment. Suddenly the music cut off. I let go of the cup I'd been washing and let it drift to the bottom of the sink, landing with a muted thud.

"Bree, I was listening to that!" I shouted, pulling my soapy hands out of the water.

Nothing. Not a sound.

"Bree Ana-Lynn, turn it back on!" I middle named her, expecting a response, but all I got was more silence. I turned and reached for the tea towel, wiping my hands. The silence made the house seem so much bigger. I took a tentative step forward, inching toward the den. Maybe a circuit blew?

I padded down the hall on bare feet, the wooden floors cold. My mind struggled to recall the whereabouts of the circuit box. Steps from the living room, sound blasted through the house. My heart throbbed and a screech tore through me. I threw a hand out, steadying myself on the wall. "Fuck." My voice came out shaky.

_Marilyn Manson's_ Sweet Dreams piped through the sound system. I stepped into the room and looked around. No bratty teenaged sister anywhere. I walked over to the stereo and turned the volume down a little. My eyes followed the cord to the outlet and back up again. "Huh," I said, hands on my hips and my heart still racing. Just a short, I figured and made my way back to the kitchen on steadier feet. My cell phone dinged on the centre island, and I quickened my pace knowing it was Edward. My bare feet touched down on the kitchen tile, and my heart kicked hard in my chest. I froze.

The dishes were stacked in a precarious tower next to the sink. Dishes I'd already washed and sat to dry in the rack. For a moment, I could only stare. My hands trembled at my sides and the instinct to bolt from the room grew the longer I took in the odd sight.

"Bree?" My voice quivered and refused to push past a whisper. I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried again. "Bree," I said a little louder this time, but nowhere near loud enough for her to hear me over the thrum of the music.

The sudden ding of a bike bell startled me and my body jerked; my hands clenched into small fists. My eyes broke from the tower of dishes and found my phone on the island.

Not a single cell in my body wanted to take those few steps to the counter, but I pushed forward on careful feet, my eyes darting around the room. I grabbed my phone and tore ass out the way I came in. Taking two stairs at a time, I shot up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, I ducked into my sister's room.

_Fuck knocking, she'd forgive me_.

"Um?" Bree said, watching my chest heave. Her face was painted in confusion.

Still half breathless I said, "Either your big sister's cracked or this house is _fucked_! Well, at least the kitchen. The kitchen is for sure not right." My words came out quick and kind of crazed, and I realized I was rambling.

"The kitchen? What happened? You're all …" she gave a weird little wave and her lip curled "… uppity."

"Yeah, you'd be _uppity_ too if the dishes rearranged themselves on you." I slid down the door, giving Bree a _no-shit_ look. When my cell phone chimed again I nearly chucked it across the room.

Bree's head cocked in befuddlement. "Whatdaya mean they _rearranged_ themselves?" She turned fully in her chair, highlighter still in her hand.

"Like, one minute they're making like good little dishes, the next they're stacked like the leaning tower of Pisa." I slid my thumb over my phone's screen and see two messages from Edward and one from Mom.

"No." Bree sounded completely incredulous and the single word got all warped and drawn out.

"Yep." I checked the text from Mom first.

**~How are my girls doing?~Mom **

I almost laughed reading it, but reined that nervous shit in, and typed:

**~Fine. How are you, big Momma?~Bella**

I looked back to my quiet sister and nodded. "The music went off in the living room, so I go back there to check it out. Then, _wham_, shit just turns back on. So I shrug it off, thinkin' old house, old wiring, ya know? I get back to the kitchen and then fucking _shit twice and die_ right there, because the stupid dishes are stacked!"

Her big brown eyes that were so much like mine, bugged out. "No? That's so cool!" she gushed, sounding stupidly excited.

I tossed her a _what-the-actual-fuck_ look. "No, not cool. Dead things playing in our kitchen is_ not cool_, Bree. It's messed."

"Pft. Whatever." Bree flipped her dark curls over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. "You're a pansy." Her voice was light and joking, but I was a little miffed by it, not gonna lie.

"Eat a dick, Bree." I shot her the finger and checked the messages from Edward. She laughed at me, shaking her head. Brat.

**~Whatcha up to? ~Edward**

**~No Answer, huh? I'll assume you're masturbating. ~Edward**

_Pervert_, I thought, snickering.

Bree stood up, drawing my attention back up. "I gotta see these dishes."

"Seriously, can we just wait it out up here?"The idea of being in that kitchen sent a quicksilver chill racing up my spine.

"Uh, no. I need to see this crazy for myself. Move your sorry ass." She made an impatient gesture with her hand and stepped forward.

Taking a breath, I pushed to my feet and side-stepped my dumb sister, allowing her passage. As we made our way down the stairs I fired off a text to Edward.

**~Not masturbating, sorry, babe. But there is some freaky crap going on over here. ~ Bella**

Sliding the phone into my back pocket, I followed Bree down the long hallway, stopping in the living room to turn off the music. We reached the kitchen and I was stuck.

My eyes ping-ponged around the room. The dishes were sitting as I'd left them … pre-tower. Two plates sat by the sink, waiting to be washed, the rest of them were in the dish rack. One cup was no doubt in the sink swimming in cold, soapy water.

"So maybe it's option number one: big sister's flipped." Bree turned to me, her eyes half hidden by her bangs. She looked at me like I'd licked one of the funky toadstools in the backyard.

"No, no," I said, taking quick steps forward. "Bree, I swear that shit was stacked one on the other."

"Bella Marie, I didn't think you were one to get high on a school night. _Tsk, tsk_." She wagged her finger at me and a big smug grin sat on her round smug face.

"Whatever!" I huffed. "You finish the dishes, then." I stomped out of the kitchen and headed up to my room.

~(LL)~

The rest of the week blew by without anymore incidents, leaving me thinking I'd imagined the whole friggin' thing. Mom was on-call for the county this weekend and sure as the sun sets, around six p.m. her cell went off. She'd barely started in on her dinner.

"Damn. Sorry, girls. Duty calls." She got up from the table and planted a kiss on each of our heads. I got up and began packing up her dinner so that she could bring it to work.

"Thanks, baby," she said, rooting around in her purse for her car keys.

"Momma's gotta eat." I patted her big belly and handed her the container.

She placed it near her purse, huffed, and smacked her palm on the countertop. "Any idea where I put my keys?" Stupid pregnancy brain," she mumbled to herself, looking around the kitchen.

I saw her drop them in her purse when we got home from grocery shopping. She had always kept her keys in her purse; I knew this, but I shrugged. Mommy brain? Maybe. Maybe she moved them?

"Nope," Bree answered with her mouth full of spaghetti.

"Jacket?" Mom teetered out of the room in search of her car keys, and I placed the Tupperware on top of her purse. Hard to miss.

Twenty minutes later, Mom was on her way out the door, hollering over her shoulder, "Don't hesitate to call either one of us if you need to. And Bella Marie, the door _stays open_." She turned on her heel and delivered a sharp look. She knew Edward was on his way over.

"Yes, Mother," I said as sweet as sugar, tracing a halo over my head. I had zero intention of following through, but I think she knew that. Bree and I finished our supper, excitedly discussing the new horror movie that was set to come out next week.

"Ya know, it's a little funny that you freaked out over the dishes. You watch horror movies like most people watch rom-coms," Bree commented, clearing the table.

"Well seeing that stuff in real life, much more terrifying. And stop looking at me like that!" The little twerp just chuckled and began filling the sink. When the doorbell rang, I turned my back to her and sauntered out of the room.

"Better keep that door open, Bella Marie," she mocked.

I flipped her the bird over my shoulder. The front door creaked open, like, _hello-Amityville_, creaked, and that was _so_ not helping. I peered up at sea-green eyes that always seemed to be swimming. Edward's hair could only be described as sex-hair—messed up and unruly and so very hot. His hands immediately grabbed for my hips as he stepped into the house.

"Tadpole, you should be kinder to me."

"How's that?" I asked, my brows pinching together.

"Avoid tight sweaters." He pointedly looked down at my chest.

"I could say the same for the, uh, low slung jeans and up-to-no-good hair." I dragged him further into the house, and he kicked the door shut with the heel of his foot.

"Momma Swan's car is gone," he said, toeing his shoes off and placing a quick kiss on my forehead. "On call?" He knew the routine because his own father was an emergency room doctor at the same hospital my mother worked at. They'd actually gone to school together and thought it was a big friggin' hoot when their offspring got together.

I answered with a nod. Friday nights were always rough on both parents. Drunk drivers and general fuckery made for a busy ER and an equally slammed morgue. Sad, but true.

"How's Charlie's case going?" Edward asked as he followed me to the kitchen.

"He called earlier, just before dinner. Said things were looking good and if the trail stays on course, he'd be home Tuesday night."

Moving to the fridge to grab a Coke, he greeted my sister. "Hey, Miss Bree, how goes it?"

Turning away from the sink, Bree wiped her hands on a tea towel. "Deadly boring, Eddie. My chem teacher is a few brain cells short of intelligent and geometry is balls," Bree complained with a curled lip, looking perfectly disgusted.

Popping the tab, Edward leaned against the counter and took a sip. Nonchalance, thy name is Edward Cullen. "Wait, you've got Pinner for chemistry, right?"

Bree nodded, rolling her eyes.

"My sincerest apologies. Your sister and I had her, like, twice now. How in the hell she landed a job teaching AP chem, I have no idea. The woman's sweet, don't get me wrong, but she's simple."

We all chuckled. Edward and Bree always got along. She was never the bratty sister type and her age never seemed to be an issue with any of our friends. Not that she hit parties with us. Drunk baby sister, um, no thank you.

"Movie?" I asked, looking from Edward to Bree.

They nodded in unison and it was a little comical. The three of us padded off to the living room armed with Coke and Loaded Potato Skin chips. Edward and I curled up on the loveseat, letting Bree chose. No doubt it would be a thriller, a thinker. I watched her skip over the girly romance section, and smiled. _Runaway Bride_ not even on her radar. _Runaway Juror_, though …

She settled on a British film, _Veronica Guerrin_, about a journalist digging through the local drug underground. Stretching out on the couch, she tucked an old blanket around her feet.

About half way through the movie, Edward's hand went roaming under the blanket covering us. My legs were splayed across his lap, feet propped up on the wide arm of the couch. His fingers tripped from my ankle to my thigh and back. Then he got daring, running his hand between my legs. I jumped when his thumb grazed my centre.

"Ew, gross," Bree groaned. "Hands where I can see them, bubb!"

Edward just laughed and put his hands up in the air.

A loud thud suddenly had us all sitting up straight.

"What the fuck was _that_?" Edward threw the blanket off and stood.

The bang came again, louder than before. Pictures on the wall rattled with the force of it. My scream rose up and met with Bree's. The TV flickered once, twice, and then went black. The room was silent, save our shaky breaths. The house seemed to rumble and the silence between the sounds unnerved me. I grabbed Edward's hand and squeezed, begging him to stay close.

The quiet became a living thing, breathing icy cold air into the room. I pulled the blanket I'd been clinging to up to my neck.

"The air's so … sad," Bree said in a low voice. She was right, there was a sorrow mingling with the chilly air. "Look." Bree held out her hand and pointed to the corner of the room, just above the TV.

Small blue-white lights snapped in the air. It was like watching invisible bugs fly into one of those light zappers. The air around us crackled with energy and the hair on the back of my neck stood. My mouth hung open in both amazement and alarm.

Stacked dishes were fairly innocuous next to this shit.

Slowly, the sullen chill bled from the room. The zaps of light became fewer and fewer, and the silence seemed to hang precariously, as if the tiniest thing would skew the balance and the house would begin to rage again. The TV turned back on, startling us all again.

The shaky feeling of _normal_ returned, and Edward dropped to the couch next to me."You all right, Mini Swan?" he asked, looking distinctly not all right himself.

For a second Bree didn't answer, then a small nod of her head followed a soft sound that might have been a 'yeah'.

"Tadpole?" He turned his gaze to me.

I took a deep breath. "I've seen better days, sir." Huffing out another long, hard breath, I locked eyes with my sister. "They'll never believe us. Mom, Dad… they'll think we're pullin' shit, Bree."

My parents were logical people—hell _I_ was a logical person—but the fuckery in the kitchen, the banging, the little lights, and that _disturbing cold_ kinda took my finely tuned logic and flipped it on its ass.

Getting up off the couch, Bree-Ana Lynn scuttled across the room and wedged herself between Edward and I. "I'm sorry, Bella … about the dishes. I … I thought …" Her voice cut off.

"Hey, I know, I know." I ran my hand over her knee, patting it reassuringly.

"Maybe it was an earthquake or something?" Edward pondered. There was that damned logic again, trying to nose its way in.

"No, baby. No." I sighed and shook my head.

Once we'd gathered our collective balls, we turned the TV off and the three of us headed to my room. Bree didn't want to be alone and somehow the smaller space was comforting, guarded. We him'ed and haw'ed over whether or not to mention it, but untimely, shit was stacked against us, so when Mom came home just after midnight, Edward went home, and Bree and I kept our mouths shut.

* * *

><p><strong>End Notes: Had any spooky experiences yourself? <strong>

**Thanks oodles for reading folks! Should have the next chapter up in 2-3days. **


	3. Chapter 3: Little Things at Play

**AN: I'm too lazy for this shit...not mine. **

**Love to all the wonderful reviewers out there. Thatnks for reading1 And happy grins to Lynzer and I2Want2KnowU for beta'ing this little ditty.**

**I may have tinkered a little so any mistakes made are mine. Enjoy and I'll catch ya at the bottom. **

Chapter 3

**~*Little Things at Play~***

Bree and I managed to fill the rest of the weekend with as much out-and-about time as possible and occupied ourselves with busy work. Band practice (aka foreplay) made for an amazing distraction. Edward in a vintage Mr. Bubble T-shirt that hugged his biceps, old, worn jeans, fingering the strings of a bright red bass—yummy! I even picked up an extra shift at the bookstore on Saturday night. What eighteen-year-old freely gives over her Saturday night?

Sunday Kate came over and the two of us tackled the nursery, as promised. Folding a teeny onesie Kate looked up, her mouth puckered and thinned and puckered again. Something was on her mind. Something … big. Finally, she spoke, "I think Natasha and I are done." Her voice spiked, fighting off tears.

"I'm sorry," I said, leaning forward. I hugged her close, toppling the tower of baby clothes between us. "You didn't fit."

She let out a short snort and sat back, pushing her blond hair behind her ears. "I know. I _knew _… and she's amazing! She's just so… cut off."

I was going to say reserved. "I think—" My pondering was cut short by a drawn out moan—a very pained, very human moan. Kate and I were on our feet before my name left my mother's lips. She wasn't due for another month and half, her maternity leave wouldn't start for another two weeks, but the groan that tore from her lips left no question that baby Riley would be making his grand appearance much soon than that.

"Mom!" I shouted, bolting down the stairs, my feet just barely grazing the surface. My stomach turned and rolled, and I felt wild. "Mom, are you okay?" I found her in the living room, hands on her swollen belly, panting. Pain coloured her face. I took her hands and guided her to the couch while Kate left a message with my dad and grabbed the keys to her car.

"Tell him St. Bernadette's," Mom said, calling out to Kate. "Bella baby, I don't think this a false alarm." Her big blue eyes swam with worry, something was wrong. I took in the scene with keener eyes, willing my nerves to calm the fuck down.

She was bleeding.

"You'll be fine, Mom," I whispered, kissing her face. "Kate, could you call an ambulance?" Adrenaline kicked in and everything narrowed, focusing my thoughts. My heart was still pounding hard and my hands shook, but I no longer felt like I might toss my cookies.

Kate nodded and called 9-1-1. When she returned, she had my mother's purse, a small overnight bag packed with essentials and a towel. This was why I loved this girl. We helped my mother to stand; Kate folded the towel and placed it where she'd been sitting. The couch was ruined, but there was no point in telling my mother that.

"There was … _something_ here, Bells. Someone shoved me." Fear and disbelief coated each word and twisted her soft face. "There was something _here_," Mom repeated, looking up from her spot on the soiled couch. Kate and I exchanged horrified glances. I'd told Kate about all the stuff that had happened since we moved in, and though it was freaky as hell, no one had been harmed. Until now.

My face paled and my mother caught the look of panic. "Something happened to you?" It wasn't so much a question as a realization. I nodded. "Oh, why didn't you say something, Bella Marie?"

That list was too long to dive into, so I just shrugged. My head popped up as the sound of sirens grew near. Kate quickly walked to the door, opened it, and led them to the living room. Before she could stand, a mighty contraction racked her body and she nearly doubled over, screaming out. The two ambulance attendants held her steady and spoke in calm, soothing tones.

"Breathe through it, we've got you." The female EMT demonstrated, breathing in deep and slowly blowing out through her mouth. You wouldn't think instructions on how to breathe would be necessary, but it helped. Mom inhaled, pulling the air in deep and slowly stood as she exhaled.

"Call your sister; I think she's still at Charlotte's. Oh and my work phone." Her eyes darted around, looking for the cell.

"Got it, Renee," Kate said. "Just go have a baby, will ya?" She bent down and planted a kiss on my mother's forehead.

Mom got as comfortable as possible on the stretcher and was carefully bumped down the porch steps.

**(LL)**

At three in the morning, Edward, Bree, and I trudged through the front door. Kate went home around midnight with a promise from me to call as soon as I had news. Riley Harrison Swan was born at 1:17a.m. He was small, a little over six pounds and was struggling to breathe on his own. To say the birth was complicated was an understatement. My mother's uterus had torn and Riley needed to be delivered by emergency C-section. Never in my eighteen years had I been as terrified as I was the moment a code pink was called for my mother's delivery room. Baby in distress.

"Go get in the shower. I'll take care of that," Edward said in a soft, understanding voice, looking toward the soiled couch."Bree, do you need anything?"

She quietly shook her head.

"Grilled tomato and cheese, hot chocolate?" he offered, earning him a tired smile from us both.

"No thanks, man. I just want PJs and my bed." With that Bree spun on her heels and marched very sluggishly up the stairs to her bedroom.

I climbed into my oversized shirt, despite the disappointed look on Edward's face, and then snuggled down into my bed deep beneath my covers. Lifting the covers, I invited Edward to join me. Not one to hesitate, Edward wriggled out of his jeans and socks and joined me under the covers.

"So, boobie groping, is that out of the question?"

I chuckled and grabbed his hand, guiding it under my shirt. He hummed and scooted closer. Minutes, maybe an hour passed, I couldn't be sure, but sinking into the nothingness next to Edward was what my body needed, wanted.

Edward pushed up on one arm and held himself there for a moment, and then with his finger outstretched, he said, "Bella, look." His smooth voice was lost to a whisper.

Lifting my head, I opened my eyes and followed his pointing finger. My closest door was slowly opening, centimeter by centimeter. From somewhere inside came the popping blue-white lights. As the door creaked open the gap between the frame and the door widened, spilling the electric light into my room. The air shifted and changed, it became thick and charged. We sat up fully, watching the crackling and zapping inch closer to us.

"Oh, fuck this," Edward said, rolling out of bed and taking quick steps toward the door.

My body trembled, my heart thumped so hard against its bony cage I thought it would surely burst. "Don't," I begged, my voice was a mere hush swallowed by the thickness surrounding us.

Reaching out, Edward's fingers barely grazed the door and his body was blown back, landing in a crumpled heap at the foot of my bed. A terrible scream ripped through me, and I scrambled down the bed toward him.

Suddenly the door flew open, stopping with eerie precision a hairsbreadth from the wall.

"Get out, get out, get out!" I screamed, aiming my demand at fucking little lights.

Feet slapped against the hardwood floors outside my door, and Bree's panicked voice wafted through. "Bella, Edward, are you okay? Open the door!" Her small hands smacked against the door and the handle jiggled. The door didn't lock; it couldn't, yet steady and stuck it stayed.

A sound moved through the room so quiet I almost hadn't heard it over my sister's shouting. It was a low, lilting chuckle; the giggle of a mischievous little girl. As the seconds passed the laugh grew in volume and the taunt, the _sneer_ was easy to hear. It left me feeling cold, empty, and sad. The same sadness that had held us captive in the living room.

"Open the fucking door, Isabella Marie!"

I wanted to move, to run from the room, but my energy was sapped and I was frozen in fear.

"We're okay, Bree," Edward shouted over the teasing giggle. Tentatively he stood, his body was strung tight and he moved stiffly. When his hand wrapped around the handle, like pulling a plug, the heavy air flushed from the room. The giggle stopped and the bedroom door gave way, opening easily.

I looked up at my sister standing in the doorway, the panicked expression on her face brushed away all her sweet little-girl features and I hated it. I loathed the sight of her so horrified. Standing on trembling legs, I crossed the small space and threw my arms around her. "I'm okay. We're okay." I tried to assure her.

"I couldn't open the door," Bree said, tears leaking into her words making them watery.

"Did you hear it?" Edward asked, taking a few steps back and sitting on the edge of my bed. His normally sure hands quaked as he pushed them through his hair.

Bree's gaze drifted over my shoulder and she studied Edward for quick moment before answering. She nodded slowly. "At first all I heard was Bella yelling, but when I got to the door…" She took a step back, watching my face. "I heard it. I heard _laughing_."

"Camp out in your room?" I asked Bree, shoving my feet into a pair of beat up looking grey slippers.

The house felt like it was getting smaller, each day another room was lost to some kind of madness I couldn't really understand. I told Edward he could leave, that being tossed around like a ragdoll was enough bullshit for one night, but the stubborn boy refused to leave us alone. Instead he slipped his jeans back on and got comfy on Bree's floor. I huddled in next to my comforter-hogging-sister in the double bed with fucking One Direction sheets. Her taste in music was tragic. The last thing I remembered thinking before sleep took me, unwillingly, was if the Ghostbusters had a Yellowpage listing.

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><p><strong>END NOTES: I'm a horror movie fan. A big one, so I always assumed I'd have no trouble writing horrorsupernatural. Let me tell ya, it's a bigger bitch than one might think. But sooo much fun.**


	4. The Harlow Family

**AN: Disclaimer: Don't own Twilight. **

**So I need to beg a little forgiveness from you lovely readers. I'm having a little beta trouble and in transition. Max is on overload, and the other person, was unfortunately not working out. So I'm flyin' beta free! This has been pre-read by the lovely Lynzer, who is pretty and lovely and funny ... and working overtime with this fic. So please excuse my commas. Mistakes are totally mine!**

**Chapter 4**

~*_The Harlow Family_~*

"Isabella. Bree."A voice moved like smoke through my brain, hazy and far away. I pushed myself away from the strange dream I'd been stuck in and reached toward that soothing voice. "Girls?" A soupy yellow light irked my eyes and I blinked, rolling over with an annoyed groan … on to my sister.

"Get off. Ew, Bella Marie, your fucking breath smells like dead monkey ass. Gross," Bree complained, pushing at me and grunting.

"And you smell like damned fresh-water lilies." I smiled big and flicked her chin and settled back into the warm spot I'd burrowed into early this morning.

"Ladies, you both smell amazing," my father said from the doorway. I pushed myself up on my elbows and found tired brown eyes, crossed arms, and a wrinkled button-down.

"Morning, Daddy," we said in unison, dipping words in a sugar-sweet coating.

Pointedly, he looked down at the heap of Edward on the floor beside the bed. His head cocked and he zeroed in on me. _Shit_. "Why are you in your sister's bed?" He paused long enough for me to pass Bree a look. "And why's Cullen swaddled in your bed sheets, Isabella Marie?"

A muffled voice piped through the layers of blankets lying beside the bed. "It was late. I was stupid tired and the girls were scared to be alone. I swear, sir, I made no attempt to impregnate your daughter." Edward's hand appeared from beneath the blankets and he waved his sock like the white flag of surrender.

I rolled my eyes at the antics. _Seriously, Cullen?_

We dispersed grudgingly. Leaving Bree's room felt like leaving a safe haven—a tiny corner of the house that hadn't been touched by whatever the hell was turning my house into the sixth installment of _Paranormal Activity_. My sister and I watched with worried eyes as our father, looking like he could use a solid twelve hours of heavy REM, zipped around the house packing bags, making lists and phone calls.

I wanted so much to tell him their dream house a nightmare, that it wasn't safe to bring Riley home … that I was scared. But I couldn't. My mouth wanted to spit out the words, but I couldn't lump this crazy shit on him.

Sometime around one in the afternoon, I heard my father call out from his office. I marched up the stairs and stood in front the long cherry wood desk. Dad sat in a leather office chair, his eyes on the monitor to his right and his thumb ran a fretful course over his bottom lip. When he looked away from the screen, I offered up a soft smile and then folded myself into the chair across from him.

"We're taking Riley to the Children's Hospital in Vancouver. They have doctors that specialize in traumatic birth. The lack of oxygen…" Dad's strong voice collapsed.

My eyes watered, tears sat ready to fall and when I spoke my voice cracked. "Will he … will he be okay?"

The dark brown chair my father sat in squeaked as he leaned forward and rubbed his hand over his face. "He stopped breathing this morning." His fearful eyes bounced around the room. "They don't know the extent of the damage, Bella."

That was it. That broke the dam and salty tears slipped down my cheeks in hot streams. "Oh, Dad." I stood and walked around the desk and let the man pull me into a hug. Over the next hour we talked groceries, twice daily check ins, house rules and expectations while they were away. They had no idea how long they would be gone, and it didn't matter so long as Riley came back healthy.

"I know you're eighteen and bright and responsible, but I'm no fool. I know asking Edward to keep his distance while we're gone is pipe dream. Just … be safe. All right? That's all a dad can ask."

I shook my head and pursed my lips, feeling heat rush my face. Sex chat with dad, no. Nope. "Will do," was all I could muster, because really, telling him that ship had sailed like a year and half ago was moot. And might land Edward in a holding cell for rest of his natural life.

"Good," he said, looking down and clearing his throat. "I spoke to the Cullen's. Esme will be by on Thursday with dinner and again on Saturday. If this … "he waved his hand in the air "… becomes too much for you guys, you girls are welcome to stay with the Cullen's." By _this_ I assumed he meant the giant sized house sans parental units and not the maybe totally evil thing that lurked somewhere in the house.

"We'll be okay, Dad." I needed him to believe that, even if I didn't.

"I know, baby." He ruffled my hair and looked at me like I was the little pigtailed girl heading off to kindergarten so many years ago. New babies must induce some kind of weird nostalgia. "Cullen, help me with these bags," Dad barked, giving me a quick wink. Dad had been feeding Edward shit since we got together, it was part of their thing; but I knew he liked him.

Standing on the wrap around porch, Edward, Bree, and I watched my father pull away from the house. In that moment safety and comfort became an object, something you wore or carried in your pocket. Mine just disappeared down Westminster drive.

"We need to do something, Edward." He laced his fingers with mine and tugged me into the house, a few October leaves danced in behind us. The door latched with a loud click as he pushed it closed.

"I called Rose while you and your dad were talking. The soonest she can come is this weekend. She said in the meantime we need to do a little research."

When Rosalie Cullen, Edward's older sister, walked into a room heads would turn, people would stare, and whispers would follow her from room to room. It wasn't just her old Hollywood beauty that garnered attention, Rose was a tad … different. From an early age she'd been slapped with "special" label. One day a six year old, blonde haired cutie with big curls and a bright smile told her parents that Nana Elizabeth says hello. Carlisle and Esme Cullen—much like my own parents would have—shrugged it off, believing they'd mentioned Esme's deceased mother at some point. When Esme suffered a miscarriage, tiny Rosalie told her all about _Nana's_ experience, how they'd nearly lost Marcus, Esme's younger brother. Esme and Carlisle were stunned. That wasn't information the eight year would have known.

Never, from that point on, had they questioned Rosalie's gift and neither had I. I was glad Rose was coming, it brought me a little relief.

I lugged my laptop downstairs and the three of us sat in the living room, elbow to elbow on the long couch.

"So where do we start?" Bree asked, eyes darting from me to Edward.

"Um, maybe the google the address first, see if anything comes up?" I suggested, my fingers resting lightly on the keys. Edward nodded and I typed in the houses address. Plenty of random listing clouded the screen: real estate listings, a golf club, some historic bridge in London, Ontario, but nothing helpful.

"Try the local newspaper. See if their search engine picks up anything?" Edward suggested.

I quickly pulled up the webpage and entered our address into the little box at the top right of the screen.

Fourteen hits.

The three of us exchanged looks and Bree reached out, her finger pointing to a link. "Harlow Family Horror." I clicked on the link and it brought me to a scanned document dated January seventeenth, 1882. I zoomed in and read the fuzzy text aloud.

"'_A weeks worth of newspapers littered the front yard of 1392 Westminster. Spoiled milk sat on the doorstep, and the family dog, Ginger, barked madly from inside the large house. _

_When a concerned neighbour contacted the local Sheriff, they never suspected the horror that lay behind the oak door of the corner lot. _

_The smell was overwhelming, Sheriff Percy Groves said during a statement to the press on Tuesday evening. The moment you walked into the house, it hit you, and you knew … you knew something terrible happened in that house._

_Thirty-two year old, mother of two, Gertie Harlow was reportedly found in the kitchen in a pool of bloody dish water. Sheriff Groves believes she was bludgeoned to death. The matriarch was a well respected nurse at St. Bernadette's County Medical Clinic. _

_William Harlow, a local grain farmer and known to the community as a friendly, giving man, was found in the sitting room with what Sheriff Groves categorized as defensive wounds on his face and hands. He suffered several blows to the torso and head. _

_The youngest victim, seven-year-old, Sadie Harlow was found in her bedroom, face down on her bed. Preliminary findings suggest that Sadie was strangled. _

_The Harlow's eldest, eleven-year-old, Victoria, has been declared missing. The Sheriff's department is requesting any information regarding this case or the whereabouts of Victoria Harlow be directed to Deputy James Archer.'"_

My voice split and faltered. When I looked up from the screen two sets of eyes peered back in horror.

"Oh god," my sister moaned, covering her mouth. "A whole fucking family was killed here. Died here, in this _room_!" Bree was losing it, panic seeped into her features, making her young face worn and somehow older.

"Well that explains some shit," Edward said, trying for light and nonchalant but it came out shaky and affected. "Go back." He pointed to the screen."There was another article on Victoria Harlow."

I clicked back reading through the article titles. Cullen was right. The headline read_: Victoria Harlow Still Missing_ and was dated January twenty-eighth of the same year. I opened the article and screen slowly filled with old yellowed paper. The subheading shocked me. "_Authorities Suspect Victoria Harlow in Brutal Killings: New Evidence Suggests the Missing Girl_." I sucked in a harsh breath.

Edward opened his mouth to say something, but all the sound left the room. Literally. The old ugly clock on the wall stopped ticking, the steady white noise from the furnace ceased, and my thumping heart stalled. No sound, it was utterly still and quiet.

Bree stood.

The hair on my arms rose and my skin prickled. That charged, cold feeling filled the room again and we all waited, frozen. The laptop flickered and, just like the TV had, went black. A disgusting smell filtered into the room. It smelled of rot and winter and death.

Bree gagged, holding her hands over her mouth.

My mouth watered then went dry, my stomached flipped. I was going to be sick. "Oh god," I groaned, my eyes watering from the sheer stench.

Still sitting knee to knee, Edward's eyes darted around the room and back to my face.

I watched Bree, her eyes blooming wide, tears leaking from the corners in a slow steady drip, drip, drip. She fixed her gaze on a single point, and her small body began to shake. I rose, reaching for her, and then stopped. A pool of blood gathered on the floor just feet away from where my sister stood. We watched on in horror as the red liquid pressed up from the floor boards and crept closer and closer to where Bree was standing.

Edward leapt off the couch, grabbing each of us by the wrist and towed us toward the front door. "We're leaving!" he shouted. Maybe at us, maybe at the entity, I wasn't sure.

I shoved my feet into my Chucks, grabbed for my coat, and reached for the door. The handle was ice cold, cold that burned my skin and sent shivers racing down to my toes. I pulled my hand away, seeing a red mark, as if I'd been seared. "Fuck!" I shook my hand and held it to my chest. Edward turned my palm over, inspecting the wound.

He pulled the arm of his sweater down over his hand, gripped the door handle, and yanked it open. The door slammed with a violent thud behind us, rattling the windows on either side.

We piled into Cullen's car, locking the doors and securing our belts in a rush. Edward tore out of the long driveway, kicking up dust and pebbles. "You're staying at my house."

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><p><strong>End Notes: Ya still with me? I've been watching a ton of horror movies (tis the season), what are some of your favs?<strong>


	5. Chapter 5: Red Rubber Ball

**A/N: Redundant disclaimer: I still don't own Twilight.**

**Just a friendly reminder that I'm flying without a beta here, so aim any grammar flaming at me. **

**Lynz is still my lovely pre-reader. Lynzey fact: She hates gory horror movies because she doesn't like the squishy sounds guts make. MissJanuary fact: I love horror movies because of gross shit like that. I may be disturbed. **

**Happy reading! **

**Chapter 5**

_~*Red Rubber Ball~*_

Eight minutes later, the car pulled into the Cullen's driveway. The engine stopped and my lungs finally exhaled. My hands shook as I fiddled with the belt buckle. Edward's hands covered mine and he pushed the release button, setting me free. Lifting my hand to his lips, he planted a soft kiss to the plump part of my cool palm. Reaching across my lap, he gently gathered my injured hand, turning it toward him.

"Look," he said, holding it out for me to examine. I expected to see blistered flesh, but my palm was completely unremarkable—nothing remained of my assault. The throbbing had ceased and the chill that had pushed through my body like a tidal wave receded.

My hand firmly cupped in Edward's, the three of us walked up the stairs of the Cullen home.

"Mom," Edward shouted, toeing off his shoes and shrugging off his coat. He turned to Bree, whose shell-shocked face was tear-stained. He helped her out of her coat, hung it up, and when she didn't make a move to take off her runners, he guided her to the bench by the door.

I knelt in front of her and wriggled her feet free just as Esme came around the corner. Esme Cullen had short brown hair that curled at her shoulders. Her porcelain face was heart shaped and her bright green eyes were always kind.

"It was like fucking Amityville in there, Mom," Edward exclaimed as he hung up my coat.

"Watch your goddamned mouth, Edward Anthony," his mother chided, winking at Bree and I. That earned her a shy, but jittery smile from Bree. "Your sister called. She'll be home by seven on Friday."

"Em coming with her?" he asked as the four of us made our way to the kitchen.

Esme nodded, and slipped an arm around Bree's shoulders, giving her a little squeeze.

"Good. I hate it when she drives alone."

Esme leaned in and whispered to Bree, "She's a terrible driver." Bree had never really met Rosalie before, but she'd heard plenty about her. Once we reached the kitchen, Esme opened a glass front cabinet, and took down a stack of dishes. "Let's get some food into you guys."

I helped Esme set the table, and the domestic task worked wonders to flatten out my puffed up nerves. The easy going conversation Esme engaged us in seemed to help Bree thaw out a little bit. As she sat toiling a fork in her spaghetti, her shoulders dropped a tad, losing some of the tension that had been there and that made me relax that much more.

"You girls are welcome to stay until this … _situation_ is all cleared up. Of course you'll be expected to go to school tomorrow. You got a free pass today. And just like this little asshole …" she patted Edward's cheek and grinned widely, "… homework is non-negotiable."

Bree chuckled and the sound felt good. I hated seeing her so terrified.

"While you three clean up dinner, I'll head over to the house and pick up a few things for you. If there's anything specific you need or want, write it down for me. Having two children fried my brain; I'll forget before I hit the front door." I knew she joked to keep it light, but I saw that heaviness seep into my little sisters features again.

"Mrs. Cullen, please … you don't have to go in there." Bree's voice spiked with panic and concern.

The sweet woman laid her hand on Bree's and gave it a light squeeze. "I'll be fine, darlin' girl. Be quick as a bunny, I promise." She squared her shoulders and gave me a brief but confident gaze. "Now, the table needs clearing and kitchen looks like Paula Dean got sloppy drunk in there. Go to it."

**(LL) **

**Esme POV**

Getting out of the car I took a deep breath. The house was beautiful. Long wraparound porch, brightly painted trim that showcased the windows; nothing about this house spoke to its sinister past. Every house, every building had a history behind it, but from the articles Edward had shown me this evening this house was tragedy defined.

I slipped my keys into my jacket pocket and made my way up the path leading to the stairs. The door was unlocked, so I walked in and flipped on the light overhead. Just as Bella had said, the girls' backpacks were by the door. I scooped each of them up and headed down the hall and to the stairs that lead to the second floor of the house. I was hyper-aware of the static calm in the air.

Bree's room came up first. I gathered the young girl's belongings, packing them into the backpack. She'd written a simple list: her migraine medications, some personal toiletries, her pillow, and enough clothing for the rest of the week. As I folded a pair of jeans and tucked them into the bag, a soft buzzing sound began to emanate from the hallway behind me. I turned, not sure what to expect. There was nothing, just the soft glow of the overhead lighting.

I went back to gathering Bree's things and jerked to a halt when I felt a gentle tug on the back of my jacket. Very slowly, air trapped in my lungs, I turned. Sitting on the bed was a tiny girl, no more than seven or eight. Sadie Harlow.

The long gone girl was far from solid, her form blurred in and out like a lens struggling to focus. Her grainy features were distressed and sad. The little girl's face tipped up and her faded eyes met mine. I swallowed hard, forcing the frenzy back down. I didn't feel threatened, just immensely sad.

"Sadie?" I whispered. She continued to stare at me. "Why are you scaring the people that live here?"

For a moment I was sure she was nothing more than a vision, incapable of interaction. Then her head cocked and her face grew worried. She shook her head and her eyes pleaded with me to understand something she couldn't spit out.

"It wasn't you?" I realized. Sadie's face softened a little and she shook her head again.

I knelt down, bringing my face level with the child's despite the hammering in my chest. "What hap—" My words stopped short when the bedroom door slammed. I whirled, losing my balance and my ass hit the ground. Turning my head back, I found an empty bed. Sadie had disappeared.

Gathering the bags—and my dignity—off the floor, I stood. I let my lungs expand and slowly pushed out a rickety breath. Not wanting to, I pulled open the door and made my way down the hall to Bella's bedroom. I went to her bathroom first, gathering the necessary items, including her birth control pills, which she hadn't mentioned. Not that I blamed her. Next I tackled her drawers, packing her clothes.

Though I felt like a complete creep, I couldn't help but smile at the pictures of Bella and Edward that dotted her walls and dresser top.

Behind me a door creaked, gradually opening. "Fuck," I muttered, looking skyward. I shoved the last few things in the backpack and turned on my heels. The closet door was wide open and something about the darkness of the space set my teeth on edge and grated my nerves.

A small, dirty, red rubber ball rolled out from the mouth of the closet and came to a full stop at my feet. My heart was kicking wildly and so loudly that the sound of my pulse throbbed in my ears. I moved around the ball, keeping my eyes on it as I scooted out the door. As my feet pounded on the hardwood, I heard the malicious giggle of a girl.

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><p><strong>END NOTES: Thanks for the fic love, you guys make me smile. <strong>


	6. Chapter 6: Interlude

**A/N: Just playin' around, no infringement intended. **

**Lynzey Lou Who! I love you! Thanks for pre-reading, pimping, just all the wonderful you do for my fics. You rock. **

**Readers our little story is drawing to a close. Thanks so much for the love you've shown it.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

_~*Interlude~*_

"Shh." The librarian flashed us a nasty glare that very clearly said: Keep it up and you're out. Cullen shot her a smoldering wink and her death-glare softened a little. _That fucking boy and his sex magic is ridiculous_, I thought, rolling my eyes.

"Stop being gross, Edward. She's, like, forty-five." I pinched his upper arm and delivered a wicked grin when he flinched.

Edward pulled his chair closer to me and when he spoke, his breath tickled my neck. "All work and no play …"

_The boy's just full of it today._

"The Harlow's finished building the house seven months before Victoria was born," I told him, trying really hard to ignore his proximity and the smell of him.

"Kind of a big financial undertaking for a nurse and a grain farmer, don't ya think?" Edward asked, reading over my shoulder.

I wagged my head. "Not if daddy owned half of Clallam County. Looks like Gertie married into a wealthy family."

"So no previous owners, just the Harlow's?"

"Yup."

Edward rested his chin on my shoulder and quietly asked, "Anything else on Victoria?"

I'd opened up the articles that mentioned the Harlow family death, the last was dated nearly a year later. It wasn't a large piece.

"'_Victoria Harlow Sentenced to Clallam County Insane Asylum. Today Judge Andrew Newton found twelve year old Victoria Jane Harlow guilty of the horrific murders of her parents William and Gertrude, and her younger sister Sadie Harlow. It was apparent to judge Newton that the girl was disturbed, often flying into violent fits of rage._

'_She needs help and a prison is no place for the young and the sick. Regardless of their crimes,' judge Newton stated._

That was it. The media's coverage of the family ended on that line. I searched the obituaries for Victoria Harlow's death, but nothing came up. She seemed to disappear into that asylum, never seen again.

"What about owners since?" Edward helpfully asked, his big hand cupping my knee.

"Jason Jenks, that sci-fi author that skipped town after the, ah, _scandal_ owned the house before us. Lived there like twelve years or something." I shrugged and logged off the computer.

Edward scoffed. "Scandal? Dude was caught jerking off in that prevy little sex shop in a fucking Power Rangers costume!" he practically shouted.

Again, the librarian shushed us. I put my hands up in surrender and stood. "It was The Flash, actually."I stuck my tongue out.

"Oh, that makes it _so_ much better." He held the door open for me, tossing a quick smile to the forty-something librarian on the way out.

"We should go pick up my car," I said, chucking my backpack into the rear of the pristine Dodge Challenger. It was all slick lines and gunmetal. The fucking thing was a hard-on with wheels.

Edward dug his keys out of his jean pocket. "Your car is a piece of shit."

"Yes, but it's my piece of shit."

The car rumbled to life. "Tomorrow before school we'll stop by your place and grab it."

I nodded, pleased at the prospect of having my little beater back. My phone vibrated in my purse and I slid my finger over the screen, finding a text message from Bree. She'd be having dinner at Charlotte's tonight, and would I please let Mrs. Cullen know. "Bree won't be home for dinner," I announced. "She doesn't want to be there tomorrow night. I told her she could stay at Kim or Charlotte's for the night. That you and I could take Rose over to the house. She's had enough, ya know?"

Since Monday night Bree spent the nights tossing and turning, and more often than not, crying. I was convinced that she'd experienced something more than what we all saw and smelled that night, but she refused to talk about it. I didn't want her anywhere near that fucking house until it was safe.

"She's been so quiet. Not like Mini Swan." Edward shook his head; his face was long and sad. We sat in silence the rest of the way home, kind of, sort, but not really listening to the music.

As we pulled up the long gravel driveway, the bronze-haired boy next to me smiled. "No units. Empty house." I didn't exactly need a net to catch the implication and I wasn't at all opposed to it.

Three nights sleeping in the room right across the hall from him was some kind of heinous torture only the parent of an eighteen-year old could devise. I knew he slept naked and that thought was what carried me off to bed every night. In the morning, I'd wake frustrated. 'Course it didn't help that I could hear the shower running and knew there was all kinds of hot, wet, nakedness going on there. Like I said, _heinous_ _torture_.

I got out of the car and started a quick sprint to the front door, but Edward caught my wrist, laughing. "Hold on to your panties, Tadpole. C'mere." He ushered me to the shed.

The shed. I loved the shed. My first hickey happened in that shed. The first time I gave him head, the first time we got high, the first time he told me he loved me was in that shed. It was kind of my happy place.

The smell of chopped wood filled my nose. Edward tugged on a string overhead and a single bulb lit the dank room. He rooted around behind a bunch of old paint cans and pulled out a brown bag. I knew what was in that brown bag. I took a step toward Edward, slipped my hand into his front pocket, fishing around a little more than necessary.

"Feelin' a little handsy, Tadpole?" His grin was lopsided, cocky always looked good on him. I hated that … a little.

Pulling the lighter free, I waved it between us and smacked his chest. "How your mother puts up with the two of you, I'll never know. Light it." Cullen came by his smugness honestly. Carlisle was just as infuriatingly charming, and intelligent, and if I was being honest, good looking. I'd never own up to that, mind you, but the Cullen men were a stunning pair.

As the smoke coiled and moved around us, a simple feeling seeped through me that hadn't really been present since we'd moved into hell-house. I was content, totally at ease. Grant it, a good deal of that could have been the herbal not-quite-legal substance popping brain cells, but it was more than that. It was standing in this shed, alone with Edward, just being quiet, and fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. I felt normal.

"Shall we?" he asked, snubbing out the tiny nub on the workbench.

A lovely, mellow buzz warmed me, and I took his hand as he led me out of the shed and up to the house. Without any raunchy commentary, he walked behind me as I climbed the stairs to his bedroom. The dark blue walls in his room were pretty much covered in band posters, the bed was never made, and his desk was in a perpetual state of clutter. I used to nag him about tidying the desk up, but the boy only ever gave me a flat, bored kind of look. No arguments, no nods or shrugs. It completely pissed me off, which, I'm sure was the point of it all.

I shrugged out of my hoodie and tossed it over the chair sitting in front of the desk. Turning around, I unzipped my jeans and shimmied out of them, leaving them on the floor where I stood. Cullen just stared at me in that way he does that melted my bones and made me squirm.

"_That_ should be the school uniform." Green eyes sauntered up and down my body.

"A peach camisole and …" I looked down my body "… navy blue underwear? You'd look ridiculous." I laughed at the thought.

His hands reached out and cupped my waist, drawing me in and crushing the distance between us. "I'd rock that shit." A goofy, happy smile lifted his lips. My hands tickled his ribs and his danced down the sides of my body. Edward bent, and panties slid down my chilled legs; he helped me to step out, and I kicked them next to my jeans. Reaching my arms up over my head, with one fluid movement he tugged the slinky camisole over my head and let it drop. The soft fabric brushed my elbow, my hip, and my lower calf.

Moments later, when Edward sank into me, I closed my eyes and let my body go.

**(LL)**

Friday morning Edward and I drove to my house to pick up my car. I asked my sister to grab breakfast at McDonald's with me on the way to school. I wanted the time alone to ask her about what had happened the day we left house.

Parked in the schools parking lot, covered in wet leaves, I sipped on a hot chocolate while Bree munched on a hash brown. Placing the cup in the centre console, I turned my body toward her.

"I know what you're going to say," Bree said, staring out the window still chewing away on the golden, grassy yumminess.

"You need to talk to me, Bree. I know something happened to you that night. Something more than what I saw." I watched her swallow and slowly bring her apple juice to her mouth. She didn't look like she was going to offer up an answer. "Bree Ana—"

"I heard a voice." She spoke very carefully, as if she were afraid of the words. "I heard her say … say that we'd all _die_." Bree's eyes flicked up, apple juice still in her hand. Her cheeks grew red and I knew she was seconds from an epic meltdown.

My lips squished together in a tight line and I shook my head. A protest was forming on my tongue, but her next words dissolved it.

"Drown in blood. That's what she said. That we'd die choking on our own blood … just like her family did!" Bree lost it, and I grabbed for her hand, scooping the apple juice before it tipped. Tears rushed down her face and her sobs caught and tore out of her in loud, heart failing sounds. Sounds that made my stomach hurt.

The nightmares, the sullen, distant attitude; this thing had stolen a piece of my sister no one had the right to ever touch. She was petrified and the one place that should have been safe stunk of rotting flesh and whispered foul threats.

I leaned forward and awkwardly wrapped my arms around my little sister. "Bree Ana-Lynn, look at me."

Her head tipped and watery eyes gazed up at me.

"I need you to do something for me." In everything I'd read about hauntings, taking a stand against the spirit was a must. Own the space and be prepared to stand your ground. So much about that sounded so very friggin' ridiculous, but after what we'd experienced in that house I'd walk backward, tossing clover and rock salt over my shoulder while wearing a garbage bag if I thought that would do the trick.

"You need to believe that Rose can help, all right? Fairy-magic, okay? Believe, Bree, really _believe_ that this will all work out. Picture Riley coming home to a bright, happy home. Mom and dad leaving us to babysit, while they do god knows what, and it's all okay." I level a sure, confident look at her and nod.

Bree sniffled and ran the back of her hand under her nose. "Ya need me to clap too," she said, back to full on smart-ass.

"If it makes ya feel better," I snarked back.

**(LL)**

The day moved by in slow, stilted movements and after talking to Bree my confidence was high and the anticipation swimming in my gut was more of a let's-get-'er-done, less nervous jitters. But as the hours ticked by, fear began to worm its way into my veins and when the final bell rang, I felt more like a terrified kindergartner being hauled off to school for the first time.

I dropped Charlotte and Bree off in front of Charlotte's modest ranch, and as she closed the door to the car, she gave a couple of claps and mouthed the words "_I believe._" I smiled at the dumbass and blew her a kiss … with my middle finger.

I pulled in behind Edward's Charger and cut the engine. I took a big breath, breathing seemed a difficult thing today, and walked through the front door. Esme, Carlisle, and Edward greeted me as I ambled into the kitchen. The mood in the room was very strange. Homecoming meets rectal examination. Everyone was excited to be seeing Rose, but let's be honest, the circumstances could be better.

We ate and danced around the subject like well choreographed monkeys, and the fear in the pit of stomach had almost disappeared. Until the front door opened.

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><p><strong>END NOTES:<strong>

**Oh, this is the first thing you've read by me? My apologies, I'm a cliffie whore. I saw the cliff coming up and I just couldn't help myself. If what's in my head works out the way I'd like, the next chapter will be the last and then**** a ****tiny future-take.**

**My favourite Halloween candy is Tootsie Rolls. What's yours?**


	7. Victoria

**A/N: All of this was because of SM. Not mine.**

**Lynzey Lou, thank you for your help with this. It was fun. **

**HAPPY HALLOWEEN!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

_~*Victoria~*_

"Ma?" Rose's voice came down the hall, followed by the distinct sounds of bags hitting the floor.

Esme smiled, her eldest was home. "We're in the kitchen. Get yer ass in here, child."

Rose walked in, all round, swaying hips and her gold hair bunched in a messy bun atop her head. Her sneakers squeaked on the kitchen floor, and behind her, she towed a large man called Emmett. She threw her arms around Esme and squeezed. "Damned near a college graduate and she _still_ calls me child," Rose bantered, poking her mother's side.

Carlisle pushed his wife to the side and snorted as she shot him the finger. He laid a smacking kiss on the side of Rose's face and wrapped his arms around her. "Good to see ya, Rosie Bean." She pat his chest and stepped back.

Rose pulled her coat off and hung it over the nearest chair. She stepped around the table toward her brother, and I watched her eyes flip from Edward and back to me. "You're in it pretty deep, eh little brother?"

"Are we talking about the ghost or her?" Edward waved toward me and a strange grin crept across his face. I'd seen it before when we talked about our future. I knew that grin.

"Both," she answered with a knowing smile. She hugged him and whispered something in his ear, he chuckled and did that thing he does when he's nervous; he ruffled his hair, and clicked his tongue.

"Nice shirt, Em," I said to giant man that had walked up and rested his thick arm on my shoulder.

He beamed and looked down at the words on his chest: _ My girlfriend talks to the dead. What can yours do? _It was shit like that that made the Cullens love him so much. He knew Rose, he never claimed to understand her, but he knew her kindness, her wit, her intelligence and he loved her. He accepted her, no questions asked, and never once called bullshit. The guy was kind of awesome.

"So there's something spooky in your house?" Emmett asked.

"You could say that."

"Bummer." Emmett took a seat at the table.

Rose walked over slowly. "I'm sorry you're going through this. How is Riley?" She tugged gently on my sleeve and pulled me back to the table.

"Mom said he's doing better. They've gonna try taking the tube out tomorrow, see if he breathes on his own." I showed her the pictures of Riley my mom and dad had been sending Bree and me all week long. He was tiny still and very fragile looking, but he had a look about him that made me think he'd be just fine.

Pouring herself a cup of tea, Rose asked, "So what do we know about this house?"

Edward piped up. "Built in the 1800s by the Harlow family. Harlow senior owned, like, half the fucking county. William Harlow junior, married Gertie, built the house a little before their eldest, Victoria, was born. They had two girls. Mom met Sadie, and I believe Victoria and I are well acquainted. Bitch tossed me across the room like rag doll."

Rose nodded, looking almost impressed. "Takes a good deal of energy just to manifest, never mind moving stuff."

"Stuff?" Edward shook his head incredulous.

Rose shrugged. "People …"

"Anyway," I broke in, "the Harlow's were all murdered some cold January night. Victoria went missing. Evidence pointed to her; something about the angle of the blows and bloody handprints found in the house. She was sentenced to a mental institution. But that's where the buck stops. Not a single mention of her after her sentencing."

Rose sipped her tea and nodded. "Other owners?"

"The only one we know of is Jenks, the sex-shop beater," Edward said with a shrewd grin.

"Edward Anthony!" Esme tried to chastise him, her snicker kind of had her busted.

Em snorted. "I remember that shit. The Flash, right?"

I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of me. Lips pressed together, I bowed my head.

"Leah and Paul Clearwater owned it in the 1980s or early 90s, maybe. They moved up to Seattle when Paul was promoted. Leah was one of my ER nurses," Carlisle offered. "Never said a sideways word about that house."

"Kids?" Rose asked, shifting in her seat.

"Nope," Carlisle answered just as his cell phone rang. He answered, standing up. "All right, thanks, Matt. No it's fine. See ya soon." He pushed the phone back into his pocket and heaved a sigh. "Fucking Granady. Old bugger called in sick." He walked over to Rose, and lovingly kissed her head. "I don't want to see a single one of you tonight, got me? Be safe." Worry etched into his handsome face, he turned to Emmett. "Take good care of my girl."

"Always, sir." Em clapped him on the back as he walked away.

"Rain check?" Carlisle asked, looking over his shoulder at his wife. He winked that same sexy ass, cocky wink Edward often gave me.

"Absolutely," Esme said, blowing him a kiss.

"You're both disgusting," Edward said, pushing away from the table. "Let's get this fucking show on the road. What do we need, Rosie girl?"

**(LL)**

As we pulled up to the house on Westminster drive, Rose let out a whistle. "She's been waiting. She knew we were coming. None too happy about it, either."

"Yeah, well the feeling is mutual." I unbuckled myself and gave the house a hard look. Haunted house always brought big, run down, creepy houses to mind. Homes that looked like evil had settled into their very foundation. This was not that house. It was more _Better Homes and Gardens_ than _Amityville_; and maybe that made walking up those steps worse. The unassuming nature of it all was creepy as fuck.

The porch creaked and groaned like a crotchety old woman as we made our way to the door. With a shaking hand, I pulled the keys from my back pocket.

"Allow me," Emmett said, gently tugging the keychain from my hand. The key slid in, the lock disengaged, and I held my breath. Emmett walked in ahead of us, tense and ready.

"Where was the first incident, Bella?" Rose asked, her hand sliding into Em's supersized mitt.

"The kitchen, I guess. That crap with the dishes." The four of us made our way to the far corner of the house.

After turning on every single damn light we could find, Rose pulled a chair away from the centre island and plopped down. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. I'd seen Rose go all _Long Island Medium_ before, so I knew her quiet breaths and the toiling with her necklace were all part in parcel. My eyes zipped around the room and I shifted back and forth.

Suddenly, Rose grasped and brought her hand to the back of her head. "Jesus. Christ!" Her eyes flew open. "She watched from the doorway, just watched, humming a little tune while her mother did the dishes. Gertie didn't see. She didn't know." Rose let out a long, shaky breath. "The first strike hit her shoulder, the second—the side of her head. Then more …" She lifted her hand in the air, as if holding something, and swung it down in sharp, quick movements again and again.

My hand hovered over my mouth. I could picture the scene, the startled mother, the hateful grin stitched on the child's face.

"Down the hall … to daddy," Rose said in an almost gleeful voice. She recounted William Harlow's death; the way he begged her to stop, reached for her with tears and fear in his eyes. "He knew she was sick. They knew. Disgrace …disgrace." Rose turned and faced me. "They were more worried about saving face. Pretend like it's all okay, shove it under the rug and hope the neighbours won't talk too much."

The lights over head flickered twice and then we were plunged into darkness. "Victoria?" Emmett coaxed, flicking on a flashlight. "Ah Jesus, that's disgusting." The putrid smell of old blood and rot filled the room.

"Ya wanna talk, Victoria?" Rose shouted.

A loud bang rumbled like thunder threw the house.

Edward pointed his own flashlight down the hall. "Living room," he said, and I turned to see sparks of blue light emanating from the mouth of the living room. Keeping close, we made our way toward the little lights.

Emmett pushed the coffee table off to the side, opening up the room. From the purse at her side, Rose withdrew a container of salt and quickly walked around the room, spreading it in a large circle. "Inside. Don't break the line," she directed.

We all crept over the white line with wide eyes. My heart throbbed and my head ached from the smell.

"Victoria Harlow, you can't be here anymore. This isn't your home, this isn't your family. You need to move on," Rose called out to the room; her fists were balled tightly at her sides.

A growl tore through the room, and I cupped my ears to muffle the sound. Edward's arms came around my waist, holding me to him. "Stop it!" I screamed, tears flooding my eyes.

The air shifted and crackled with energy. The lights grew more intense, zapping like little bolts of lightening.

"Holy shit," Emmett whispered and jerked his head toward the far corner of the room.

A small shape had begun to form, blurred and about as solid as smoke. It moved like oil through water, stepping away from the corner. The blue-white glow lit the room and the sad, drawn face of a small child became clearer.

"Sadie," I mustered, choking on the lump in my throat.

Rose knelt so that she was eye level with the girl. "She hurt you, didn't she?" she asked in a quiet, gentle voice.

I could hardly speak. Not three feet from me, stood a dead girl. I was both amazed and horrified. I'd never doubted the afterlife, but this brought things into a whole new perspective.

"Sadie, as long as you stay here, in this house, she'll find you. She'll hurt you. Victoria is sick. She's very sick, like a rabid dog. Do you understand?" Rose studied the faded face of Sadie Harlow, her lips pressed in a thin white line.

The girl's head cocked from side to side, and finally she spoke, "Where do I go?" She sounded so lost and desperate.

Rose just smiled and pointed. "That light, Sadie Harlow, is for you." The girl flickered, struggling to keep her form, and turned slowly, fading as she did. Rose straightened. "Mom and Dad were here for her. Keeping her safe … keeping Victoria locked away."

"Locked…?" The air in my lungs punched up and out. "My room. The closet."

Rose nodded. "She's pretty much got free reign now." As soon as the words dropped from her mouth, the lights came back on and the sudden change was a shock to my eyes.

"Shit," Edward mumbled behind me, his grip tightening.

A maniacal chortle bounced off the walls and echoed all round us.

"Oh, that's creepy as fuck," Emmett said, giving Rose a look that said he was _not_ okay with the dead kid's laughing.

Slowly, a red ball rolled into the room, almost oozing over the small drop into the living room, and came to a halt just beyond the circle Rose had drawn for us. I was counting on that circle to keep us all safe.

"This is no game, Victoria, you need to go." Rose turned, searching the room.

The ball inched forward, touching the salt line. Edward reached out and tapped Rose's shoulder, pointing out the advancing ball.

"Um … should that ball be able to move past the line?" I asked, more than a little fucking nervous.

"No," Rose said with authority.

Then suddenly the ball zoomed forward and the second it breached the line, the salt blew outward, scattering around the room and leaving us vulnerable.

"She must've missed the memo!" Edward shouted over the ever growing laugh.

"Well fuck me, that's a first." Rose looked genuinely perplexed.

The ball began to quake, the outline of it becoming obscured and hazy, as if it were moving, changing shape. Four sets of feet stepped back, giving the red ball a wide berth.

"What in the happy fuck is this noise?" Em asked, watching the ball.

Quicker than the flash of a camera, the ball seemed to burst into smoke and shade, and from it emerged a girl. Willowy, wild dull, red hair, and black, empty eyes; she appeared much more solid, and diffidently more formidable than her sister.

Victoria leered at us, sending chills racing up and down my spine.

"This isn't your home anymore, Victoria. Move on." Rose stood straight and faced off with the girl. She had brass balls and I was impressed.

Victoria just laughed, amused by us.

"Bella, this is your house, you need to own it. Lay it all out for the crazy bitch!" Rose's voice demanded my attention and took my eyes off the ghost girl.

Victoria's lunatic antics cut out and Rose went flying through the air, smacking against the back wall of the living room. My scream had barely formed when tiny hands reached out and wrapped around my neck, cutting off my air.

I heard Rose groan, and Edward yell, and I saw Emmett reach for Victoria. I lurched forward, throwing her off balance and clapped my hands on her wrists and tugged. Her skin felt like old, damp paper and the sensation made my stomach roll. Her face burned with anger as her grip slipped. "Get out of my fucking house!" I hollered, slamming my foot down.

Her fingers loosened and she stumbled. I yelled again, claiming the house, my family.

A furious screech fell from her cracked lips, and just like the ball she began to quake. Somewhere behind me, Rose got to her feet. "Again!" Rose shouted, pushing my confidence to the forefront.

"Victoria Harlow, _leave_!" I shouted, locking eyes with her and pushing every ounce of energy into that tiny word.

**(LL)**

Two hours later and reeking of sage, I stood on the front porch with a red ball in my hand.

"Bury it deep. Maybe say a little prayer that the girl finds some peace," Rose suggested, holding my hands in hers.

"I will," I promised.

Emmett and Rose waited by the car while Edward and I dug a hole in the backyard, next to the gazebo. It was a pretty spot, that when the spring came, would be full of colour. I dropped the ball into the small hole and pushed the dirt over it, patting it down with my hands.

"May you find peace, Victoria Harlow, and god willing, may you _never_ feel the need to terrorize my family again." I gave the earth a final pat, stood, and let Edward led me back to the car.

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><p><strong>End Notes: They'll be a short epifuture-take shortly, but that's, that folks. I hope you enjoyed the Halloween treat. Enjoy the holiday and be safe. **

**Now it's time for me to get back to my Omens. I missed Little Bird and Masen. They've been whispering … **


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